A Midnight Clear
by CallHerVictor
Summary: Eight years of Prixin seen through the ever-shifting relationship of Chakotay and Janeway. Happy Holidays! (All J/C in the end)
1. Chapter 1

**Stardate: 48976.5 Decemeber 23rd, 2371 – set after _Learning Curve_**

* * *

"Anything else?"

Chakotay glanced at the PADD in his hand then down at Janeway, her eyes buried in the systems report, a momentary reprieve from her piercing scrutiny. _She's going to have to relax_, he thought. Then again, they both would. In time, these daily briefings would have to take on a different tenor, he'd have to sit across from her, look her in the eyes, and not feel the reflexive stab of resentment. Her face came up to his again and he swallowed the thought.

But, not today.

He sighed inwardly. "Neelix has asked permission to throw a party."

"_A party_? For what?" she asked as she withdrew the PADD he offered.

"A Talaxian holiday he called Prixin."

Janeway sat back in her chair. "_A celebration of family_," she read. "It seems to fit the bill, but do we have the resources right now?"

"B'elanna reported an increase in the power output in the warp core. Our energy stores are at capacity."

"Not a bad choice for Chief engineer." A half-smile graced her lips. Of all her expressions, he liked this one the most. There was something very human in that smile, wry but knowing. It suggested under all that Starfleet decorum, there was a woman who felt first, and acted second.

"You're on board with this?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It couldn't hurt morale, and we're going to be together for a while. We might as well do what we can to foster these relationships, both personally and professionally."

Neither of them missed the implication therein, and she rose to move around the desk. Her watched her move with the sharp eyes of a solider, the lithe yet calculated steps she took in those ridiculously high heels. What they afforded her in height they added a tactical disadvantage, but there he was thinking like a Maquis. Then again, the visual presence of a captain had about as much to do with hand-to-hand combat as being able to align a warp core did with poaching the perfect egg. Starfleet was all bravado. And _she_ was all Starfleet.

"Cup of coffee?" she asked over her shoulder.

'No' was the first word on his lips, but the question hung between them like every other that had come before; tense, baited, and palpable in its double-meaning. One of them would have to break eventually before either of them could breathe.

"Please," he said and saw the same wry smile in her reflection against windows.

When she passed it off to him, he stared at the black liquid ruefully then glanced back at the serving tray on the table and moved to add some cream and sugar. He kept his eyes fixed to the task, keenly aware of her silent examination. _Let her look_, he thought.

"I never learned to drink it black," he said and settled on the couch beside her.

She nodded. "How are they doing? The crew, I mean."

"Well enough. Dalby and the others seem to have fallen in line, and all of the complaints about B'elanna's promotion have been withdrawn."

Janeway sighed. "I meant, how are _they_?"

"It's been a rough year for all of us, but we're alive and thriving. Kes has become somewhat indispensable for those who are truly homesick. The line is still there, but I can see it fading, given enough time and effort."

As she listened, she sipped her coffee and let the warmth give more weight to her voice. "Seems we are the last barrier, then."

"Captain?"

She considered him fully now, and he could see the trepidation fixed in the corner of her eyes. "I won't lie to you and say that I don't wonder…"

She let the thought die, and he felt a warm rush of anger fill his chest. "Wonder about my loyalty? I have no intention of hoisting a mutiny, if that's what you're afraid of."

She raised her chin defiantly. "I am not afraid."

He sniffed a laugh. "We're _both_ afraid, and I don't think we'll get anywhere until we can admit that."

They both stared into the cups, their thoughts fixed in similar places but colored by vastly different experiences. For her part, she knew a command structure should be predicated on trust. But how did you trust the man who walked away from the ideals you sought to uphold? And how did he trust you after you'd been charged with his capture? And did any of that matter anymore now in a space as far flung as the Delta Quadrant?

Chakotay, on the other hand, could think of only one question. "Why you?"

"I beg your pardon?" she bristled.

"I can think of a handful of other captains in Starfleet who would have gladly drug me back to face the music, so to speak. Anderson, for one. Bellingsworth, maybe even Krumich."

This time, Janeway's smile was all the tell he needed, but she added, "They were among some of the firsts to request the position."

"But they chose you," he said.

"They did," she said softly then pressed her lips together. "I suppose I was the best qualified."

It wasn't exactly the admission he was looking for, and they both knew it. Resigned he was getting nowhere, he set the cup on the edge of the table and stood to leave.

"Tell Neelix his request is approved, but to keep it within limits," she said.

Chakotay nodded once and moved toward the door.

"Will I see you there, Commander?" she asked.

Chakotay felt her eyes on the back of his neck. Every muscle in his body begged him not to turn around, not to meet those painfully blue eyes, and agree to maintain this charade any longer. Every ounce of who he had been wanted to say '_go fuck yourself_', but instead he drew a deep settling breath and looked at her again.

"Yes, Captain."

* * *

Chakotay took stock of the room, a sea of yellow, blue, and red shouldered strangers doing their level best to seem at ease. Most of the Maquis had showed, including Dalby and Chell who mingled politely with a few Starfleet crewmen. Still, the tension clouded the room, and Chakotay didn't miss the clear separation in their social positions. Janeway stayed near Tuvok, a glass cradled in her fist as she kept quiet conversation. The smug Vulcan even nodded at him when their eyes met.

"Quite a turn out, Neelix," Chakotay said.

"Thank you, Commander. Of course, I was going for something a little less formal…" He drummed his fingers against his chest as he surveyed the room with a wary smile. "_But_ this will do."

"Well, I think it's lovely, Neelix," Kes echoed as she tucked herself under his arm. "But I think we need some music."

"You're right! Ah, computer, access musical database. We need something – well, I'm not sure."

Kes glanced at Chakotay, a soft patience held in her face. Chakotay considered Janeway again. Her service record indicated she'd grown up in Indiana, which meant today would have been Terran Christmas Eve. It wasn't his particular tradition, but he suspected she wasn't the only one who would make the distinction.

"Computer, access database for holiday music, White Christmas. Instrumental only."

Neelix and Kes listened for a moment, seemingly pleased as recognition passed over the other humans in the room. Tom Paris laughed aloud and raised his glass in Neelix's direction. Chakotay kept his eyes on Janeway, her head tilted sideways as her attention captured the lilting piano melody. Her eyes met his across the room and she nodded once.

As the night wore on, Chakotay found himself relaxing into the moment as Ensign Wildman taught a tone-deaf Neelix Christmas carols, though at the moment, he was confusing silver with jiggle bells. Much to his surprise, Dalby was proving to be quiet a capable alto throughout Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Chell produced a box full of ornaments that looked Ferangi in origin and goaded Harry into hanging tinsel over the bulkheads.

"Tom is requesting something called egg nog," Kes said.

"Egg nog," Neelix repeated. "What is a _nog_?"

Chakotay stifled the laughter in his fist but for the first time felt the tension bleeding out and a collective sigh passing around the group. _This might actually work_, he thought. Eventually, Tuvok rose and excused himself, leaving Janeway alone against the windows. She watched the merriment but Chakotay noted the sadness she hid carefully behind another wry smile. He eased his way through the crowd, drawing up beside her as she stared wistfully out at the stars.

"Merry Christmas," he said.

She jerked around, startled for a moment then bit her bottom lip. "You, too. Good idea, by the way."

"Does your family still celebrate?"

"Christmas? Oh, yes." She drew a sharp breath, as if swallowing something hard then straightened. "Not the same without snow, however."

"Uhg, _snow_," Chakotay lamented. "Too cold for my blood."

"Oh, I love the snow."

They chatted for a while longer. Chakotay learned that her mother was an excellent cook and there was no better way to watch the snow fall, in her mind, than with fresh caramel brownies and cup of coca. He listened patiently, forgetting the crowd around him and his previous ennui. They could make this work, he had to make this work. _She'll see Indiana again_, he promised himself.

The crowd began to thin as crewmen headed to bed. A raucous group of Starfleet and Maquis trailed out together, still joking and laughing at Neelix's expense. It was Mike Ayala who broke Chakotay's new found calm with a slap to his shoulder as he passed.

"Way to go, Chakotay. Didn't know you had it in you."

"What was that about?" Janeway asked, clearly alarmed.

"I don't know."

He made a cursory check of the remaining party goers and found B'elanna seething.

"Paris, you're an idiot!"

She stalked toward Chakotay, and stopped between him and Janeway to stand on her tip-toes and snag the bundle of greenery from the bulkhead. She slapped it into Chakotay's palm. "When you're done beating him senseless, he's mine."

"What the –" Chakotay hissed.

"Mistletoe," Janeway said flatly. "Traditionally, people – "

"I'm familiar."

"Right." She took a full step backward and deposited her glass on the newest table. "Well, if you'll excuse me."

She didn't wait and pivoted on her heel. Chakotay watched her all the way to the door, feeling the righteous stir of anger building in his chest once again. When he looked back, Paris offered him an open-mouthed shrug and Chakotay flipped the bundle of mistletoe on the floor and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Stardate: 49976.6 December 23, 2372 – set after _Resolutions_**

* * *

"Anything else?" Janeway asked.

Chakotay shifted in the seat across from her desk. "The first night of Prixin is tomorrow. Join me?"

"I don't really think that would be appropriate," she said sharply.

He flinched, but it went unnoticed, like so many things, though he suspected not as much as she pretended. On New Earth, he'd become quiet adept at deciphering her observations, veiled though they were. Like now, as she pretended to look at the report in her hands when her eyes were fixated on the fingers fidgeting in her lap. She was nervous.

"Kathryn," he said softly trying to garner her attention.

"Chakotay, don't," she answered, her face still downcast, her voice pleading.

It was as desperate as he'd heard her in a long time. But their two weeks back aboard _Voyager_ had been full of unspoken glances and cautious conversation that stayed pointedly away from anything resembling the deeper relationship they'd forged over the last few months. Frankly, he was tired of it.

"Can we at least talk about this?" he asked.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"If you're afraid I'm –"

"_I'm not afraid_."

He had to chuckle at that. "Then why won't you look at me?"

She steeled herself for a moment then lifted her head to meet his eyes.

"Good to see you, Captain. Now, can I talk to Kathryn for a minute?"

"There's no difference."

"Oh, there's a big difference. I, of all people on this ship, know that." He stood and rounded the desk then knelt and took the fretting hand from her lap. "Listen to me, please. I'm not asking you to jeopardize your command or even explain your reasons to me, but this crew came back for us, and did so because we are a family. You don't have to go with me, but you need to be there for them. That's all I'm asking right now."

"Right now?" she pressed.

It was his turn to look away, swallowing the lingering bitterness brought about by her sudden change. He understood her trepidation, her need for discretion, but now that he knew where the captain ended and Kathryn began, he was finding it difficult to be so removed from her.

"In time, I'll probably want to talk about a few things, but not today, okay?"

He cast a silent prayer that hearing her own words echoed, she would understand.

* * *

By 2100 hours, Neelix was having a hard time keeping the appetizer plates full, and his last batch of Lantarian puffs were not browning correctly. Despite it all, the crew was in high spirits; the Captain and Commander's recent return had seen to that. Neelix wove between the crush of bodies and found B'elanna, Tom, and Chakotay clustered together. He was pleased to see they'd all forwent their uniforms for something more casual.

"Great party, Neelix," Tom said. "But still no egg nog."

"Next year, I promise. I, uh, haven't seen the Captain."

"She'll be here," Chakotay assured then added quietly, "she'd better be."

"You never did tell us," B'elanna said. "What was _that_ like?"

"What was what like?" he asked.

"Oh, come on, Chakotay," she admonished.

Tom leaned in closer. "Yeah, three month alone, on a deserted paradise planet. Just the two of you."

"Fortunately, _my_ sense of chivalry is not dead, Paris."

"So, nothing?" B'elanna pressed.

Chakotay felt his ire rising. Less at the line of questioning – he'd expected that – and more at Kathryn's absence. If she didn't see by now that they thought of her as more than simply their Captain, they were never going to get past this, and it was going to be a long, cold journey back to the Alpha quadrant.

"If you looking for a good romance, I suggest a holonovel," he told B'elanna with a knowing smirk.

Harry moved in to join their table. "What'd I miss?"

"Oh, nothing. Just Chakotay telling us how old and boring he is."

Content to think she wasn't coming, Chakotay quickly finished is drink and stood. "Well, this old boring man is headed to bed. Merry… Prixin everybody."

He contemplated heading straight to her quarters, but decided against it. He was too angry and disappointed to think of anything he could say that wouldn't sound like the half-hearted criticism of a scorned lover. Though she might deserve it, he preferred not to mark this night with that particular memory. If he was lucky…

He came up short at the open turbolift.

Kathryn stood quietly considering him, her uniform gone and replaced with a soft cream dress that lit her eyes to a cerulean blue. A loose braid fell over her shoulder and she twisted her hands together at her waist.

"You look lovely," he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

She bowed her head, blushing. "I wasn't going to come, but I thought about what you said, and you're right. We're a family."

"Thank you," he said then moved to pass her.

Suddenly confused, she placed her hand against the door sensor. "Are you going somewhere?"

"To bed," he said. "They're waiting for you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Stardate: 50975.9 December 23, 2373 – set right before _Scorpion_**

* * *

"Anything else?"

Chakotay bit back a smile and waited for her to look up from the system's report. When she did, she could see the humor painted in his face.

"What?"

"Déjà vu." He chuckled. "First night –"

" – of Prixin. Right." She sighed and lolled her head against the back of her chair. "Has it been a year already?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it?"

She wove her fingers in her hair and kicked both feet up on her desk, still wearing those ridiculous heels.

"Let's see, Tom and Harry got incarcerated. We met some Ferangi, got stuck in twentieth century Earth…"

Though she seemed to meet the year in review with levity, Chakotay had a hard time recalling much more than the frightening events surrounding Riley Fraiser, a Q civil war, and then there was…

"Chakotay?"

"Hmm?"

"Where were you just now?" she asked.

Far away. On a cold planet with her lying dying at his feet.

"I'm sorry. You're right. It's been interesting, to say the least."

A single eyebrow marched up her forehead and demanded a better explanation.

"I almost lost you," he admitted.

Kathryn nodded knowingly. As haunting as her near-death experience with the alien posing as her father was, she knew Chakotay had come face to face with some demons of his own. In the long run it had set a new tone for them, a relationship built not only of trust but familiarity and a comfortable understanding of their mutual affection.

She leaned across the desk to set a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But you didn't."

His weak smile was his only reply. She pressed on to lighter topics. "So, what's the plan for this year?"

"Neelix wanted to change locations and try the holodeck so there can be… _snow_."

Kathryn bit back a smile. "Oooh, whatever will you do?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll manage. As long as it pleases the captain."

"It does. Maybe I'll replicate some caramel brownies."

Now it was his turn to tease her. "Why would you do that to them?"

* * *

He hated snow, and what Neelix had designed was nothing short of a blizzard. The north-eastern wind bit through his tunic and sent a shudder that traveled all the way to his toes and back. Red-eared and angry, he quick-stepped up the cobblestone stairs to the lodge, praying it was much warmer inside.

B'elanna, too, seemed to be shaking out the cold at the door.

"Damned frigid recreation," she grumbled as she shook a pile of snow from the back of her collar. "Why can't we have Prixin somewhere nice, like Fiji?"

"Agreed," Chakotay said.

Still, Neelix had out done himself. He wasn't sure where the lodge was from originally, but it was made of California redwood, all rough-cut walls and exposed beams. The stone fireplace filled the room with the scent of smoke and burning cedar. A Virginia pine towered in the center of the room, and the Doctor hovered closely to where Harry and Tom hung ornaments on the top-most branches. Tom balanced himself precariously on the edge of a ladder, one foot hung out for balance.

"I don't need to remind you, Lieutenant, that should you fall, you will undoubtedly break something," the Doctor chided.

"Well, then Doc, it's a good thing you're here."

"Oh, Commander! I was hoping you could tell me if this was too strong," Neelix said as he handed Chakotay a glass of something that, by the smell of it, had been fermenting for a while. The ruby liquid was thick on his tongue, almost sickeningly sweet. Chakotay tried to swallow but coughed roughly.

"It's certainly is pungent," he gasped. "Might want to mix it with some juice."

Neelix frowned into his own cup. "I thought it needed something. I'll be right back."

B'elanna moved off toward Tom and Harry as they began the tedious task of stringing popcorn. A fight erupted moments later, a flurry of white kernel tossed in the air in multiple directions. Chakotay edged around the room toward the couch, safe from the line of fire.

"Good to see them getting along," Kathryn said as she eased herself onto the cushion next to him. He was pleased to see she'd opted for a new dress made of red velvet. And it was with no small amount of pleasure he noted the way it clung to her slim hips.

They watched for a moment longer. Harry was decidedly at a disadvantage, his bowl now empty as various crewmen tossed handfuls of popcorn at his head.

Kathryn lifted her glass to her mouth and Chakotay caught a whiff of Neelix's punch again.

"Be careful, that's not synthehol."

"It's a little stronger than whiskey," she said. "But it's not bad."

"It'll be bad for _everyone_ tomorrow when you wake up with a headache."

She took a final sip and set the glass aside. "Point taken. So," she began, a hint of playfulness in her voice, "if you weren't schlepping around the Delta Quadrant, where would you be right now?"

"Hard to say." He thought a moment and laced his fingers together. "I might still be aboard the Val Jean or at one of the Maquis installations in the DMZ, or a Federation prison."

"Pleasant," she said with no small amount of sarcasm.

He dropped his hands to his lap. "But if you meant, what would I be doing for Christmas, I have to remind you, this is your holiday, not mine."

"What do your people celebrate then?" she asked thoughtfully.

"During the winter months my tribe observed a time of home and hearth, a time to come together and meditate on the past events of the year before the world was reborn with a new season."

She listened patiently, her eyes fixed on the crew who had given up on Mr. Kim and were now taking turns guessing at charades. Tuvok, much to his obvious annoyance, was hinting at an object that Kathryn was pretty sure was a warp core manifold or a toaster.

"It's a time for family," Chakotay continued. "And the bonds we have formed."

Kathryn's eyes stayed on the faces of her crew, but Chakotay felt the soft, cool skin of her fingers as they met his, tentative at first then more firm. She threaded their hands together, a gesture that drove his curiosity suddenly to new and different heights.

She sighed happily, her eyes glistening with unshed tears he suspected were born out of contentment rather than sadness. Amid the smoke and scent of pinions and sage, he found a warm note of the Neelix's punch on her breath, her proud chin profiled against the windows, a blue-white winter falling just beyond the glass.

He wanted to set his fingers against her chin, turn her face to meet his, and offer her no explanation. He wanted to kiss her, knowing full well their crew looked on, and not care what – if anything – it meant beyond expressing to her in the fullest way he knew of his loyalty, his commitment, and his love.

Then, the spell cast in the moment was broken. Kathryn's hand withdrew from his as Tom, B'elanna and Harry had officially given up on charades and moved on to the banquet table. Chakotay thought he saw a glimmer of recognition pass over Paris' face, but when he looked back, it was gone.

"Shall we?" she said as she stood.

Dinner was delicious, but passed for Chakotay with no uncertain amount of regret, and the feeling that an opportunity had once again slipped through his fingers. Kathryn regaled her crew with a few of her more interesting stories, some he'd heard and some he hadn't, but all safe from being too familiar.

Time had seen some of her original barriers fall, the ones he indentified in their first few months as being out of place for their specific situation. They needed her certainty and presence as much as they needed her playful banter. They needed her to be human.

Still, she knew when her welcome was overstayed and before that, she excused herself a quiet corner. Chakotay followed, settling on an animal skin rug beside the fire. He asked her about her life before _Voyager_, before the academy. Childhood stories she bypassed so often, but drew his curiosity deeper than before. Before she was a captain, she was a woman, and before that a little girl who watched the stars with no small amount of wonderment.

He listened and the snow fell behind her head and the moon spilled out long shadows across the pristine white drifts. The crowd began to thin, diminishing to a near trickle of hangers-on until finally she lifted her head from their conversation and found the room empty.

"I believe they've all abandoned us," she said with a laugh.

"Seems that way," he said and glanced to the beams above them. "No mistletoe this year."

She laughed and sipped her coco. He regarded her for a long moment, the firelight turning the auburn highlights in her hair into a halo.

"What?" she asked.

"Beautiful women in gardens," he said wistfully. "In Greek mythology, they used to warn beautiful women against walking alone in gardens, as the temptation was too great for the Gods to resist."

Whether she took it as a compliment or not, he couldn't tell. Her face fell to something he'd seen before, the careful reluctance that suggested he'd wandered too close to the barriers between them.

"From a little spark must burst forth a flame," she said ruefully.

"I don't know the reference."

"Dante's Inferno."

"Never read it."

"Oh, you don't know what you're missing."

"Well, maybe I'll replicate a copy."

"Mmm, I'll do you one better. Come on."

He uncurled himself to follow her, but hesitated at the door. "Wait," he said. "Computer, end program. I am not walking through that cold again."

He followed her laughter out of the holodeck. At her quarters, she keyed the code and motioned for him to follow. A strange knot formed in his gut when she disappeared into the bedroom. He could count on one hand how many times he'd been inside her quarters. And though they'd begun to share meals regularly, they did so in public areas, like the messhall.

When she returned, she offered him a leather-bound book with a red bookmark trailing from the center paged. He unfolded it and skimmed the print as she moved to the replicator.

"Coffee, black."

"Do you _plan_ on sleeping tonight?" he asked.

"In a bit," she said, watching him eye the first few lines. It was when he found the inscription on the cover he held his breath.

"Mark," he said. "Your fiancé?"

"It was an engagement gift," she said.

"I see. And he won't mind?"

She appeared to consider the question for a long moment as she drew on her coffee and sauntered toward him. "It's safe to say after three years he's probably moved on, don't you think?"

"I-I don't know."

_I couldn't_, he didn't say. But then, he knew so little about Mark, only what she had mentioned in passing and what she had told him on New Earth. How they had been childhood friends and only recently found a deeper relationship after a decade of distance. Chakotay had always imagined this was only one version of the story, and the other side would undoubtedly tell a tale of some long-held affection for her, one that was continuously kept hidden for reasons that made sense at the time, but now seemed completely juvenile.

He certainly understood how that felt.

But to hear her so cavalier in her dismissal unnerved him. He thought about returning the book right there with some shallow explanation about it being too personal a gesture. But that was it, wasn't it? It was a personal gesture, and even if it did come with some feigned casualness, Kathryn Janeway never took action she did not fully intend to take. What _that_ meant, he hadn't the foggiest.

"I'll start reading it tonight," he said finally.

"If you like it, there are others," she said.

He turned to face her, unsure of where to go from here. It was late, he should go back to his quarters, but something daring was shining out from her eyes, something that rooted his feet to the floor and begged him to run at the same time.

"Any predictions for the coming year?" he asked.

"A road home, I hope."

"Me too."

"One day you'll have to tell me your plans," she said.

"Plans?"

"For when we get home."

It seemed too perfect a moment to remind her of what the Alpha Quadrant meant for him, that if and when they did reach Earth, his first stop would probably be to a prison facility.

"Thank you for the book."

Kathryn smiled then lifted herself up to place a warm kiss against his cheek. The scent of her perfume washed over him, dizzying in its intensity but a pleasant mixture of roses and coffee. It suited her.

"Merry Christmas, Chakotay."

"Merry Christmas, Kathryn."


	4. Chapter 4

**Stardate: December 23rd, 2374 – set during _Mortal Coil_**

* * *

"Anything else?"

"We're still investigating the shuttle accident and trying to determine exactly what occurred. In the mean time…"

Kathryn nodded. "First night of Prixin. Neelix insists that he's up it. What do you think?"

"Given what he's been through…" Chakotay pulled at his ear. "I don't know. I want to believe that he's fine but the Talaxian's have beliefs much like my culture."

"An afterlife," she said.

"He wasn't prepared to face what it meant when those beliefs were called into question. And frankly, neither was I."

"Do you think I made the wrong decision in allowing Seven to revive him?" she asked.

No. He didn't, but he wondered if she had taken the time to consider what it would mean for Neelix. In retrospect, he should have spoken up in sickbay when Seven had first made her announcement to 'reactivate' him. Kathryn waited patiently for his answer.

"I think you did so without considering his personal beliefs. If it was me and we do just cease to exist, I would prefer not to live knowing my faith was false."

Coffee in hand she strode out from the safety of her desk, pacing the length of the half wall. He'd struck a nerve, he knew, and he'd wrestled with mentioning at all for that reason. Like so many years ago, he knew their crew needed a confidence in her that went beyond command. They needed to know she could respect them as people as well as officers.

"Who's to say it is? There's no way of knowing what happened to Neelix, what will happen to any of us, when we die. And I can't make decisions based on everyone's particular religious beliefs. I have to do what is best for the ship."

"I agree, and honestly I am not upset that you _did_ make the choice to save him. I would hate for Prixin to be marked as his memorial."

His words seemed to soften her for a moment. "Meet you in the mess hall, 1900 hours?"

"How about I pick you up at your quarters?"

* * *

"Welcome to the first night of Prixin, the Talaxian observance of familial allegiance," Tuvok greeted. "This year, Mr. Neelix has requested that I commence the celebration with a traditional salutation."

Chakotay let his arm brush idly against Kathryn's, and she pressed her lips together in a sweet smile.

We do not stand alone.

The words resonated in a way he couldn't remember in previous years. Perhaps because they weren't very far from what he had told her ten months ago, and the ones he had repeated in the quiet moments he was allowed to.

_You're not alone, Kathryn_.

They all laughed at Tom's heartfelt toast to Neelix and joined in when applause broke out. They were all relieved to have Neelix back, Chakotay included. After checking on him, Chakotay moved through the party, keeping close watch on Kathryn as she spoke with Seven.

Seven's presence had formed somewhat of a divide between them. What time Kathryn spent off duty, she spent coaxing and coaching Seven through the intricacies of humanity, like now, as she ushered her into a conversation with Samantha Wildman and the Doctor.

Satisfied her protégé was set to socialize, she made her way back to his side. Shoulder to shoulder they watched the relationships that had formed between the Starfleet and Maquis crew, neither of them thinking in such terms, and equally glad for that.

"This has become somewhat of a tradition for us," he said.

"What's that?"

"Standing around like two amused parents while the children play."

"They're growing up so fast." She sniffed a laugh and added, "We all are."

It was hard to ignore the darkness in her voice and Chakotay turned to her. "About what I said in the ready room today, I didn't mean to imply…"

She waved away his apology. "No, I understand, and you're right in a way. The scientist in me doesn't immediately entertain the thought of an afterlife."

"Are you saying that you do?"

She released a long-held breath as she settled into the couch. "I'd like to believe that there is something more, something else to explore."

He sat across from her. "I think it's safe to say, if there is something out there, you'll find it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Stardate: 52975.8 December 23rd, 2375 – set right before _Equinox_**

* * *

"Anything else?"

It had been a difficult year for all of them, but Chakotay could read in the delicate set of her shoulders, the last few months and taken something out of Kathryn. Some of the roundness had left her face and the rest of her body, which if he confessed to looking at, he noted the sharp edges of bone where muscle used to be. She wasn't eating, rarely sleeping, and sharing a wall between bedrooms, he knew when she did sleep, it was restless. But it was the loss of light that truly bothered him, and where they had once been a magnificent blue, her eyes were now a dusky gray. The haunted look of a woman who was slipping away behind a careful mask.

Then again, they were both wearing their own masks these days. After a misunderstanding surrounding his birthday brought the long-baited emotions between them to the surface, they'd resigned to have the conversation they had stalemated for so long. But not before he had kissed her, and been shocked to see her unfold so openly in his arms. In the few short moments his lips had met hers, he knew every bit of what she held so perilously in check, the passion with which she felt.

This of course couldn't happen. Not here. Not now. And a tearful confession made him understand that the depression she'd struggled with earlier in the year while they were stuck in the Void, paled by comparison to what she would feel if she loved him and lost him.

The only thing worse than knowing that now, was _knowing_ and watching her run those soft lips across the rim of her tea cup, envious of it by design.

"Prixin starts tomorrow," he said finally. "Neelix has added a human tradition this year, called bring your own bottle." They shared an easy laugh before he continued. "Tom is bringing egg nog, but for us, I have a bottle of Antarian cider. Not the replicated stuff."

Her eyes widened. "Been holding out on me?"

"No, never," he said softly.

"I can only imagine what my professors would say if they knew I was getting drunk with my crew."

"You get drunk with your best friend," he reminded. "You've only gotten tipsy with your crew."

"A fair distinction," she said resolutely.

"And Harry is going to read the Night Before Prixin."

Kathryn screwed up her face. "I don't remember that version."

"Then you should come."

"I have the earlier shift tomorrow," she reminded.

"Funny thing, I know the guy who handles the duty roster."

* * *

"T'was the night before Prixin and all through the ship, there was nothing on sensors, not even a blip," Harry began.

Chakotay flinched. If his puns were as bad as his rhymes, they were in for a long night. Kathryn rolled her eyes and lifted the glass of cider to her lips with a look of commiseration. They had returned their tradition to the holodeck, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace and the lodge. Somehow, Chakotay thought, it seemed more like home.

"The stockings were hung on the warp core with care, in the hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The Crewmen were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of algorithms danced in their heads."

"I fail to see the purpose of this narrative," Seven said abruptly.

"It's a story, Seven," B'elanna said. "Enjoy it."

Harry cleared his throat to continue and Kathryn set a soft hand on Chakotay's arm. She rose and moved toward the French doors overlooking the falling snow. Chakotay glanced at the rest of the crew, too engrossed to notice her departure, save Tom Paris who gave Chakotay a knowing look and chucked his chin toward where she had gone.

He stood to follow but realized she'd stepped on the outer deck. He swallowed the rising shiver and drained his glass before opening the door.

With her arms rested on the rail, Kathryn stared out over the nighttime hush. Snow fell lightly, dusting the crown of her head but melting instantly. He stayed behind her for a long minute, watching for any indication she was aware of him. When he received none, he slipped behind her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Kathryn?"

To his surprise, she straightened against the line of his body then laid her head back, against his shoulder. Instinctively, his hand slid down her shoulder to encircle her waist. Her hand covered his where it rested against her belly.

They stood there, holding each other as the snow fell, in silence. He pressed his nose to her hair and inhaled deeply, drawing in the sweet, floral scent of her shampoo. She sighed against him and he felt her shudder as a tear fell across her cheek. He swept it away with his free hand.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

Her voice was filled with the rasp of tears. "I can't do this."

But what _this_, he couldn't immediately discern and thought to pull away until she said:

"I want to go home."

In five years he'd never heard such plaintive words pass her lips. His chest ached as his mind searched for any word he could say that would sooth her but came back with none. He tightened his grip on her waist, pressing her against him as he laid his lips against her temple. Her skin flushed, but still, she didn't move away. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

"Midway, in the journey of our lives, I found myself astray in a dark wood where the straight path had been lost."


	6. Chapter 6

**Stardate: 53975.9 December 23rd, 2376 – set right before _Unimatix Zero_**

* * *

"Anything else?"

Kathryn reached across the table and tossed a grape in her mouth. He far preferred their daily briefings over dinner as it gave them both a chance to relax and take their time. Besides, she and B'elanna had spent the last two days under the warp core, and though he knew it did her good to get away from her normal routine, he'd missed her company both on and off duty. To a large degree he suspected he was being avoided.

It had been another difficult year that started with Rudy Ransom and finished with perilous tests of their ingenuity as well as their characters. After a glitch in Seven's alcove spawned a conspiracy theory that tested their trust and the embarrassing events of Fair Haven, he wondered if Kathryn wasn't keeping a little more to herself than usual or necessary. Long gone were the days where she needed to draw a hard line between the captain and the crew. They, all of them, benefited from seeing her off duty. The captain, however, was becoming more reclusive. Something he'd been meaning to address with her for a while but now segued nicely into their next topic.

"Prixin starts tomorrow." He watched her face carefully. "We have a lot to celebrate this year."

"Indeed we do. Survived another round with the Borg, made contact with the Alpha Quadrant, added four Borg children…"

"And the Equinox crew," he added.

"And the Equinox crew," she echoed, albeit through gritted-teeth.

There it was – the elephant in the room. Though they had settled their difference over Ransom long ago, Kathryn had made no effort to secure Ransom's crew in their positions as valued members of _her_ crew. That duty had been left squarely on Chakotay's shoulders.

"They're doing well," he assured. "Making friends, and starting new lives here."

"I'm glad for that." It was forced, but at least she said it.

"They've all requested to attend the festivities, if the captain allows. Marla even offered to help Neelix decorate, something about everything being bigger in Texas."

Something flickered across her face, like a fish testing the surface of the water. A ripple of movement and then it was gone, swimming back down to depths in her few people ever reached, including him. A Leviathan born of her own cold hatred and sickening fury, parts of her he knew scared even the great Kathryn Janeway.

"_Marla_, is it now?"

He hadn't heard _that_ voice in a while. To a younger man or someone who didn't know her better, it might have sounded as hollow as jealousy, but on Kathryn it was just another layer of antipathy. At Ransom, at his crew, but mostly at herself.

"Stand down red alert. It's my job to get to know them and bring them into the fold." He sipped his coffee then added, "You might try to do the same."

Suddenly, there was something far more interesting inside her coffee cup, and her eyes stayed safely away from his, which was more of a tell than all the others combined. He wanted to be able to say he understood her ambivalence, but he couldn't, not honestly. He hadn't been too terribly impressed by the Equinox's crew either at first, but he also understood how persuasive Starfleet captains could be. If Ransom had half the charisma Janeway possessed, he might have gone right along with Lessing and the others. He'd certainly made worse choices in his life.

"Permission granted," she said eventually.

"And will the captain be attending?" he pressed. _Since she's allowing her black sheep to come_, he didn't say.

With Kathryn, no answer was often the loudest answer of all.

Standing, she placed both hands behind her back and stretched then moved off toward the couch, stripping off her outer jacket and the high-necked shirt underneath. Four gold pips disappeared in a heap tossed on the floor. The heels followed and she lost a full head of height, which didn't matter because she quickly dropped to the cushion.

He'd long since grown accustomed to her mercurial nature, but time had done many things to his appreciation of moments like this. A few years ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to trot after her, awestruck and starry-eyed at her seemingly absolute openness. But now, he knew, these were calculated maneuvers, seeded in her unrest over the Equinox crew, and the ground he'd trod on ever so lightly had earned him some exquisite form of torture. Exquisite because he still took a great amount of pleasure in watching her move, torture because it never went anywhere. If he thought there was conscious effort behind any of it, he might have gotten angry or even tried to press his luck.

He'd learned to read every subtle gesture like a barometer of varying degrees of her true anxieties. He rose and positioned himself at other end of the couch, and was rewarded with a small nudge against his thigh. Physical contact, level one – he'd struck a nerve.

He caught her socked foot, playful at first then began to knead his thumbs against her soft heel. Level two – an open-mouthed yawn and another lithe stretch that started in her neck and ended in a balletic point of her foot. Somewhere, she was still haunted by what she'd done, and the guilt of locking Lessing in that cargo bay to die overwhelmed her.

Level three – eyes closed, head and hair tossed wildly in abandon across the arm of the couch, the soft, sinewy line of her throat lay open and bare. They were bordering on a warp core breech.

"Hey," he said softly, catching her hand where it draped over the back of the couch. She lifted her head and he pulled her upright, sitting with her legs in his lap. "We all go a little crazy sometimes."

"Yes, but do we all almost murder someone when we do it?" she asked.

"Sometimes," he said slowly. "Sometimes we even succeed."

Her eyes shrank away, chin to chest. "I should be court-martialed for what I did."

"That'd be easier, wouldn't it? Rather than having to share the holiday with him and call him family, because while part of you wants him to be there, and the other part can't stand that he is, that any of them are."

"He murdered –"

"So did I," he snapped. He saw her flinch, stuck by his words but also by his proximity as he spoke them. "There were Cardassian children on some of those ships I attacked, passengers who had nothing to do with the occupation of Bajor. What about them? Weren't they also innocent?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"And yet you found it within you to not only make me your first officer but your _friend_." He tightened his grip on her hand, holding her in place for the last few seconds he had before he knew she would pull away. "I'm not asking you to do anything out of character for you, Kathryn. I'm just asking for you to offer them the same chance you gave my crew. The same one you gave me."

She broke free, panting, her feet firmly on the floor, body braced on the corner of the couch. "I'm trying, Chakotay."

"_Try harder_."

He moved to leave and realized she hadn't answered him if she would attend the first night of Prixin. He could stay, dance around the topic a little bit more, but he was tired.

"Oh, I forgot to mention – Seven prepared a surprise for everyone tomorrow."

"A surprise? What kind of surprise?" she asked.

"She didn't say, only that she needed Neelix's help and unmitigated access to the power array."

"The power array? What could she be planning?"

Content the mystery would see her through the door, he shrugged. "Don't wheedle. You'll ruin it for everyone."

* * *

"Commander?"

Chakotay spun to see Marla Gilmore clutching a narrow present against her chest. She'd opted for a thick downy sweater the color of wheatgrass. He held his hands up to the festively decorated lodge. Pine trimming hung from every flat surface, pinned with wide red ribbons and stings of cranberries. The tree was twice as large as he ever remembered it being, covered in thousands of lights that winked on and off like distant stars.

"Looks good," he said.

"Thank you. It's been a while, but my brother loved the holidays," she said in her whisper thin voice. "I realize that it's not your tradition, but you've been so kind to me, to all of us, I wanted to say thank you."

Marla held the package out to him, a little bigger than a diagnostic kit. It felt short in his hands, and he unwrapped the paper to find a cable-knit scarf made of the same yarn as her sweater.

"I know you don't like the cold, so…"

"Thank you, Marla. It's very thoughtful," he said.

He drifted between conversations, catching up with crewmen he hadn't seen in months. Kathryn made her way in sometime between Chell telling him about skin diving on Lakota Prime and hearing Ayala's latest attempts in shipboard courtship.

Unlike years passed, she was in full uniform. Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her in any casual clothes, save the one prudish dress she wore when she visited Fair Haven. It spoke volumes about her mindset, as did her prowling around the edges of the room, removed from all conversation. He shook off his disappointment. She came, he told himself. That's all that matters.

Word of Seven's surprise had spread at light speed and Tom was taking bets on what it could be. At the moment, a duet with the Doctor had the most takers. B'elanna sauntered up behind Chakotay, drink in hand.

"Cute scarf," she said.

"It's not what you think, Torres."

"No, I like her," B'elanna assured. "She's just very… _blond_."

"Where's Tom?" he asked, annoyed.

"I think he and Harry went outside to teach Seven how to build a snowman."

"Still can't figure out her surprise, can they?"

B'elanna held the glass against her bottom lip. "Nope."

Anticipation mounted as the time for Seven's surpise approached. The rest of the crew began to gather to the center of the room as Chakotay eased around to stand beside Kathryn. Her eyes skimmed his outfit then she offered some platitude about it his shirt, certain she'd never seen it before.

_You've seen it before_, he didn't say. _You've watched me work in it_.

Seven made her way to the front of the crowd, her icy voice rising above the din to call for attention.

"Over the last year, it has become apparent that the familial connections are not only important, but a vital element to the well-being of this collective. With the help of Lieutenant Barcley, we have prepared a gift. Mr. Neelix?"

Neelix called for the lights to dim and the wall of the lodge shimmered away to the blue Starfleet transmission symbol, replaced shortly by Lieutenant Barcley's face.

"Hello, Voyager, and Merry Prixin! With Seven's help, we were able to put this together, a-and we h-hope it will, uh, make the journey a little more joyous."

Kathryn shifted foot to foot, her curiosity shifting to full blown suspicion. Chakotay knew she didn't like things occurring on her ship that she wasn't aware of, and the fact that only a handful of people had been enlisted to help made it that much more enigmatic. Two faces Chakotay didn't immediately recognize appeared on the screen. He glanced to Kathryn and she shrugged, unfamiliar.

"Hi, Keith. Merry Chirstmas. The girls just lit the tree. We miss you."

Chakotay searched the crowd and caught the jaw-dropping expression of Lieutenant Andrews as he turned to Walter Baxter and said: "That's my wife."

The screen changed, replaced by two human women locked at the elbows and waving frantically.

"Hey, Lydia! We miss you and hope you're doing great!"

Messages from their families. Chakotay chuckled, astonished at the gift as much as the woman who put it all together. For starting off stripped of her humanity, she had come such a long way. To his surprise, Seven was both considerate and well-meaning.

The faces changed, but the messages did not. Pablo Baytart, Freddy Bristow, Chell and Dalby. Megan and Jenny Delaney's parents belted an off-key chorus of Jiggle Bells that sent both sisters into fits of laughter. Golwat had a sister and a brother. Vorik's parents, as Vulcan as they come, offered prayers for the Temple of T'apitian.

Chakotay did not miss the way Kathryn's hand went to her throat when Joe Carey's boys piled together on screen, elbowing and shoving each other for position.

"Hi, da!"

"Da, look, we made a model – _oof_!"

"A model of Voyager!"

Owen and Lenora Paris beamed, wishing their son a Merry Christmas. B'elanna's face trembled when her father issued his own well wishes.

"Talk soon. I love you."

Chakotay was stuck at how startling beautiful Tuvok's wife, T'pel, was. His children stood in a perfect row, echoing the wishes of the previous messages. Laughter turned to tears as the message continued, and then back to laughter when Dr. Zimmerman's face filled the screen.

"Yeah, what? What'dya want?"

Off screen, he heard Lt. Barcley's quavering voice. "J-just say something to him."

"Yeah, okay. Merry Chris- or Prix-whatever it is. There? Is that good enough?"

A large iguana draped across the console beside him echoed the sentiment. "Good…enough."

Kathryn laughed freely, along with the rest of the crew. The screen transitioned to more familiar faces.

"_Gong xi fa cai_!" the Kims said in unison, then Harry's mother added, "Tell Captain Janeway I am sending her a letter."

"Oh, mom," Harry groaned.

The image changed again and he was looking at his sister, Sekaya, on a backdrop of the Arizona desert, her caramel skin wrought in fierce sunlight.

"_Wah-ya __ing-gapo_, brother."

He felt Kathryn's hand against his elbow, a warm but friendly squeeze that drew his face to hers.

"She's beautiful, Chakotay."

"Please don't ever tell her that," Chakotay whined.

She opened her mouth to say something else when he heard a familiar velveteen voice creep over the room.

"Hi, honey –"

Kathryn jerked her face to the screen, and Chakotay saw her mother and sister for the first time. They sat side by side, ruby-red hair spilling down their shoulders, brilliant blue eyes set inside delicate features. He heard Kathryn gasp.

"I'll keep this brief, I promise. We just wanted to wish you all a very Merry Christmas."

Kathryn bowed her head, unable to stop the tears from spilling from her eyes.

"And Kathryn?" Her tear-stained face shot up again. "Coffee is not a food group, okay?"

A rumble of knowing laughter passed over the room, and in the darkness, Chakotay reached to touch her. His fingers flexed around hers and he ran his thumb over her knuckles as Gretchen made her parting words.

"All our love to you and your crew. Come home safe."

Kathryn's sister pressed two fingers to her lips then to the screen. As the message went dark, Chakotay saw Kathryn's hand come to quickly palm the tears away. As predicted, when the lights resumed, all eyes were on her.

"Thank you, Seven," she said, still breathless. "That was extraordinary."

Cheers erupted and a crush of people moved toward Seven, arms outstretched, mobbing her with thanks. As the crowd pressed forward, Chakotay held back with Kathryn.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she managed through the break in her voice.

"Have a drink with me?"

She began to back toward the door. "I probably should go to bed."

Exhausted in a way he'd never been before, he sighed and nodded. "Sleep well."

She didn't look back on her way out the door. Chakotay exhaled a long sigh and turned to find Seven alone for a rare moment. He snagged to fresh glass of punch from the table and made his way to her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Stardate: 54975.8 December 22rd, 2377 – set during _Endgame _(the night before Voyager, led by Admiral and Captain Janeway, enters the Borg nebula)**

* * *

"Was there something else?"

"The first night of Prixin is tomorrow. I was hoping you would go with me," Chakotay said.

A soft blush crossed Seven's face and she bowed her head. "I have a lot of work to complete."

"I think you can take an hour out of your evening and join us. Who knows, this might be out last Prixin in the Delta Quadrant."

Wordlessly, she nodded and he smoothed a loose strand of hair back into place beside her ear. "1900 hours. Pick you up at the cargo bay?"

Something occurred to her and she shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Are you sure that's wise?"

He rested a hip against the astrometric's console and considered her austere features, the long beautiful line of her jaw and the gentle swoop of her nose. "Afraid to be seen with me?" he teased.

Seven opened her mouth to protest then, realizing the joke, shook her head. "Not at all."

"Given how fast word travels on this ship, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before they figure it out. My real question is, are you comfortable with that?"

She considered his question seriously. Though her courtship experience had been brief, she understood the communal nature of a relationship. Their happiness was shared by others, which in turn brought them greater happiness. And she was indeed happy.

"I believe that I am."

"Good," he said then leaned in to kiss her warmly.

* * *

Tom circled the table and deposited three fresh drinks to his friends and a virgin juice in front of Seven that the Doctor took the time to sniff protectively before relinquishing it. B'elanna sipped water and ran an idle hand over her swollen belly. They had forgone the lodge and returned the mess hall, mostly because Chell was running behind in his dinner preparations and had started taking volunteer party-goers on as sue chefs. Chakotay missed the warmth of the open fireplace, but it seemed appropriate to be here. With a workable plan to return to the Alpha Quadrant less than a day away, exuberant conversation had broken out about homecoming plans. 'Whats', 'wheres', and 'whens' being discussed at volume. _Not if_, he mused. _When_.

Harry eyed the punch mournfully. "It's not the same without Neelix."

"Or Kes," B'elanna added. "God, can you believe this is our seventh Prixin?"

"And hopefully our last," Harry said with a salute of his glass.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Tom said. "I'd be nice to continue our little family tradition once we get back to Earth, maybe at the real Sandrine's."

"Do you remember our first one?" B'elanna asked and looked at her husband. "I thought Chakotay was going to take off your head."

Harry snorted a laugh but when Chakotay searched for the event, he found he couldn't recall much about that first year. Too much had happened, and he imagined all the disquiet that he knew in log if not memory had faded to make room for more pleasant recollections.

Seven searched B'elanna's face for further explanation, who quickly obliged between bouts of laughter.

"We'd been in the Delta Quadrant for, what? Ten months at that point? Most of us were still learning to work together, but you couldn't get him in the same room with the Captain. They were tiptoeing around each other, and Tom was –" she broke off to laugh outright. " – taking bets as to when they were going to come to blows."

A cybernetic eyebrow rose on her forehead. " I find it difficult to envision the Captain or the Com – Chakotay in a physical altercation."

"Oh sure, their friends now," B'elanna continued to laugh. "But back then…" She ran a single finger across the underside of her neck.

"It wasn't half as bad as she makes it sound," Chakotay assured.

"Oh, it was bad. So, flyboy here decides that it'd be a good idea put a bunch of mistletoe over their heads when they weren't looking."

"Mistletoe," Seven repeated.

"It's a human custom for a couple to kiss when they find themselves standing underneath mistletoe," the Doctor explained.

"You should have seen the look on their faces," B'elanna continued. "Chakotay, I thought you were going to spit."

It had made him angry at the time, he'd give her that. "It was awkward to say the least."

"What did you do?" Seven asked, interested.

"Nothing," he admitted. "The Captain just said goodnight and left."

"Speaking of which, where is she?" Tom asked.

They all twisted, scanning the crowd for a long minute before Chakotay resolved to tap his comm badge.

"Computer, locate Captain Janeway."

"_Captain Janeway is in her quarters_."

He thought a minute and asked. "And what is Admiral Janeway's location?"

"_Admiral Janeway is on deck three, section nine. Guest quarters_."

Well, at least he knew she sulked in every timeline. He shook the thought away, at least pleased that they weren't commiserating together. The minute the Admiral had beamed on board, he'd seen the careful mixture of curiosity and revulsion in Kathryn's face. Not that he envied her – he'd already seen what he'd look like when he got old. He couldn't imagine having your older-self come back to tell you all the mistakes you made, as you were making them.

"Maybe she'll stop by later," the Doctor offered.

It was met with half-hearted nods around the table. Seven shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Would you like to get some food?" Chakotay asked her.

As they moved to a more secluded spot, he cupped her by the elbow. "What's bothering you?"

"I can't help but think the captain's absence is because of…"

"_Us_?" he finished for her. "Seven, why would you think that?"

"Your affection for her has not gone unnoticed and given the speed at which word travels on this ship…" she echoed his own words.

"Point taken, but what you need to understand about Kathryn and me is that we are friends, nothing more."

She frowned. "Then why isn't she here, Chakotay?"

The night wore on, and Seven's words resonated with him in a way he didn't think they would had she not spoken so plaintively. Why wasn't she here? He had a good guess.

He rang her chime twice and when he received no answer, he keyed the sequence override. Benefit of being the first officer then again, it was curse too. It meant he was a first one in the lion's den.

The doors slid back and he could see her outlined against the stars, her boots dumped unceremoniously at her feet, and an untouched apple sliced and browning in the reconditioned air.

Her voice crept over her shoulder like something sick and heavy with an emotion he couldn't immediately place. Coupled with her uncanny ability to identify him by sound alone, it set the tone a little darker than he would have liked. "Something on your mind, Commander?"

"Where were you tonight? Your crew missed you."

"I hope you sent my regards."

Two year ago that voice might have filled him with sympathy, maybe even a little guilt, but now it just made him angry. He swallowed his rage which drew his words out in longer syllables.

"Kathryn, you haven't missed the first night of Prixin in _seven years_," he said.

Whether it was the timbre in his voice, the use of her name, or a combination of the two, she visibly shrank in her chair, running a slow hand across her forehead.

"Given everything that's happened in the last few days…" She let the thought die.

"You thought you would catch up on some sulking?" he sniffed.

He'd meant it as a joke but it was met with a scathing look that both startled and enraged when she spun to face him. In the near darkness her blue eyes were black pits, baring empty threats a lesser man might have withered at. With his hands on his hips, he frowned at her, unmoved.

Her voice was raw but edged with steel. "_Get out_."

Chakotay heaved a sigh and did as she asked, though something in the way she held his gaze insisted she was pitching for a fight and startled when he really did leave. He rounded the corner but came up short, face to face, again, with the source of his agony.

"Excuse me, Admiral. I didn't realize – "

"— that I was parked around the corner waiting for you to storm out of her quarters?" she finished for him. "No, can't imagine you would."

He held his arms out at his side, frustrated enough not to care which Kathryn he was looking at. And whatever timeline this one came from, she had probably just dismissed him there, too.

The Admiral glanced over her shoulder towards his door. "Cup of tea?" she asked.

What made him agree, he wasn't sure. Maybe some part of him still wanted an explanation, regardless of who it came from. Maybe it was because she held twenty-six years of his future in her hands. Twenty-six years she was here to change, regardless of the Temporal Prime Directive or Starfleet regulations. The question then was _what_ was so terrible it made Kathryn Janeway throw away her principles?

She stood beneath the windows, nursing her cup for a moment before turning to face him again.

"After today, she'll – I'll never attend another first night of Prixin."

"_Why_?"

"Oh, somewhere in my mind I'll think that I am allowing the crew their space without their dower old captain lingering over their every moment. But in truth it'll become somewhat of a tradition to spend the evening debating with myself."

"Debating what?"

She eyed him over her shoulder. "Why they chose me."

Chakotay knitted his brow together, uncertain. Then slowly, like dawn rising across the desert, the reference found him. Seven years ago he'd asked that question, and for seven years she'd avoided the answer. He felt a small sense of betrayal hearing it now, realizing she'd distracted him from the true answer, as much as he'd allowed himself to be distracted. He motioned for her to continue.

"The year we went to Venice, after your birthday…" He nodded once. "I told you about Justin, but I didn't tell you the important part of that story. When I was an ensign, Admiral Paris and I were captured by Cardassians. We spent three days in Rejolia Major."

The words hit him like a supernova shockwave, peeling off whatever anger he'd felt moments before and repleacing it with a sickening numb. Kathryn? A prisoner in one of the worst Cardassian death camps in the quadrant?

"You're familiar?" the Admiral asked.

"I am."

"Justin was a member of the Ranger team who led the assault and ultimately rescued us. After the accident that killed him and my father, there was some concern among Starfleet as to where exactly my loyalties would lie, which grew worse when the Maquis rebellion began actively fighting the Cardassians. At the time, I was loyal to Starfleet, but there were many people who knew my family, and knew we sympathized with the Bajoran's. Coupled with what the Cardassians had already done to me… When Starfleet announced their intention to stop the rebellion, I spoke out a little too freely, and given my clear objections, Starfleet saw fit to assign me an investigation that would draw the clear line."

He tried to connect the dots. It was an interesting story, one he _thought_ he'd earned the right to hear long before this point. But that hardly mattered. She'd kept it from him for whatever reason, and he had a hard time seeing with Starfleet's suspicions of her being a Maquis-sympathizer had to do with Prixin. He stared at the Admiral, her face impassive but trying to gauge his understanding.

"I was her… your redemption," he said finally.

"In more ways than one over the years," she admitted with a small shrug. "But yes. Though Starfleet never said it outright, I always suspected that was exactly what they were trying to do. War with Cardassia was eminent, but they didn't need any half-cocked captains running off to protect Maquis. So, they sent me to find you, take you into custody, but the caveat was, _don't return without him_."

"And she's doing _what_ now? Sitting in her quarters trying to determine if it was all worth it?" he spit.

"On this particular night, she's trying to reconcile what she feels for you against why she decided to destroy the Caretaker's array in the first place. Did she do it because of the Ocampa, or because some part of her couldn't stand the thought of returning you to the Federation?"

His head spun at the thought. Such an elaborate deception, even for her. But if the Admiral in front of him really was Kathryn Janeway, she'd know that the mention of their star-crossed past would cost him dearly. There was something more to this. He squared his shoulders to meet her head on.

"Whatever she felt for me is in the past," he said slowly.

The Admiral's eyes narrowed to slits, her voice suddenly full of venom. "No. It's _was_ in the past, until she walked through the mess hall yesterday and overheard two crewmen gossiping about the latest shipboard romance between you and Seven of Nine."

The air left his chest in a painful rush, anger out and guilt in like he'd just filled his lungs with it. "You have to know I didn't want you to find out that way."

The Admiral's lip curled into a tell-tale smile. "I do," she said. "Because you'll tell her over dinner in two weeks, and she'll pretend she has no idea, just like I did."

He paced a wide circle, letting his thoughts cool as he sniffed a laugh. Yeah, she would do that. Even still, what was the purpose of all this? When he looked at the Admiral again, her eyes were lost in thought, miles beyond him, fixated on a single point he could neither see nor fathom. He stepped towards her, closing the distance between them in three short strides.

"Kathryn?" he asked after a long moment.

She flinched, her eyes held shut against whatever haunted her. Eventually, she looked at him again.

"I just –" She hesitated, her fingers suspended in the air above his tattoo. "I haven't heard you say my name –" He heard her voice break and she shook away the end of her sentence and dropped her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry."

Overcome in the moment, he reached for her, pulling her thin frame against his body, feeling her resist then give in as she shuddered against his shoulder. The scent of roses and coffee filled his nose, a perfume that hadn't changed in more than two decades. It thrilled him, awakening parts of him he hadn't felt stir for her in a while. And he had to laugh at himself – wondering if he'd ever find a woman his own age, then reminding himself... _he already had_.

Chakotay held her away from him, his hands on either side of her shoulder. "Tell me what happened."

"I can't."

"Well, you might as well _at least_ tell me when I'm going to die, because I have I hard time believing that if I were still alive in your timeline I would have ever let you do something so reckless."

Laughter fought through her tears and she palmed the wetness from her cheeks. "If my plan works, we'll be in the Alpha Quadrant tomorrow and nothing I am about to tell you will happen."

Chakotay nodded and held her close. And presently, she began to speak.


	8. Chapter 8

**Stardate: 55977.9 Dec 23rd, 2378 – (set one year after _Endgame_)**

* * *

"Anything else?" she asked.

The Doctor watched Admiral Janeway stir her coffee idly before taking a sip. The sidewalk café was only mildly busy, but he'd noticed in the hour they'd been there, more than a few people had relocated to the outside tables nearest them. While he'd never baulked at his own sense of celebrity, he could tell she was growing gradually more uncomfortable by the way she wedged a finger under the edge of her uniform.

"We can go if you'd like," he offered.

"No, I'm fine. Still getting used to this collar," she said.

He doubted it. This woman ate, breathed, and slept Starfleet, and she was more comfortable in that uniform than a favorite pair of sweatpants. The Doctor of course made no mention of it, content to keep vigil over her shoulder, passing warning looks to any patron who dared to scoot just a little too close.

The wind changed, pushing a calming breeze over their table, bring with it the scents of the ocean and rich, native flora. The last time he'd been here with her, they were on _Voyager_, and though her recreation was good, nothing quiet compared to the real Buenos Aires.

"First night of Prixin starts tomorrow," he said. "Since Voyager is in space dock, most of the crew has decided to meet in France."

The smile crept across her face. "Sandrines?"

"The one and only. They'd love to see you."

The smile faded quickly to a look of anxious regret. "I have meetings all day then dinner with the Andorian delegate."

"The demands of admiralty."

"If I could be there, I would," she assured him.

Though it pained him to do so, The Doctor made no further argument and simply nodded.

* * *

Sandrine's was at capacity. A roar of voices both familiar and new met Chakotay at the door, people swapping stories, catching up, and eager to call him over. Chakotay stood for a long moment, chuckling at the irony as he listened to them reminisce about _Voyager _ instead of home. He spotted Harry with a Bajoran engineer named Renaud Talla. She was strikingly beautiful and seemed as taken with the Harry as he did with her.

Seven was in close conversation with Mortimer Harren of all people, his hand knitted firmly in hers. She offered him a polite smile, one that spoke of familiarity but also peace. He was pleased. In retrospect, their relationship had had the potential to end poorly given his somewhat hasty pursuit of her. He knew now – though what good it did him he didn't know – that a large part of his interest had spawned from a loneliness he hadn't understood then, and was loath to mention even now. It had never been fair, but it was Seven who had ended their relationship with the same grace and poise he'd come to expect from her.

B'elanna caught his attention and waved him toward their table. "Oh thank god you're here. Will you please play him in pool before I break this thing over his head?"

She tossed the cue at him and saw Tom was already re-racking the balls. She stayed on his heels all the way to the table.

"No date?" she asked.

"Subtle," he said.

"Ignore her," Tom said as he bent to break. "She's nesting again and that seems to include an unhealthy interest in everyone else's love life."

"Nesting?" Chakotay asked, wide-eyes on B'elanna's budding smirk. "Are you…"

She nodded and he embraced her again, pleased but undeniably envious. "I hope you'll consider me for godfather this time."

The Doctor moved in to join them, bringing Harry and Talla with him. "Captain," Harry greeted.

"No rank tonight, Harry. It's Prixin," he reminded as he pulled the younger man into a brief hug.

"Come on, come on," Tom pressed. Chakotay moved to take his shot.

They settled into comfortable conversation, catching up as much as filling Talla in on seven years of Voyager history. The night passed quickly, too quickly, Chakotay thought. It had been so long since they'd all been together like this… well, almost all of them.

"It's a shame the Admiral couldn't be here," B'elanna said.

"Are you kidding me? I've won six straight games," Tom crowed. "You're up, old man."

Half-listening, Chakotay's eyes stayed on the door.

Unlike previous years where her absence had provoked anger in him, he now only felt an unmitigated sadness. In truth, he'd been hoping that by taking command of _Voyager_, he'd be able to keep in closer contact with her. She headed up his division of ships after all. But he could count on one hand how many times they'd spoken since they'd been home, almost all of them about business, and none of them in person.

He craved her company in a way he hadn't predicted. He missed his friend, missed her counsel, but also missed the more intimate moments they'd shared, and wondered often if she felt the same.

He wondered if what he felt now was a shred of what she had struggled with during their last years in the Delta Quadrant. The solemn knowledge that duty often overshadowed more personal endeavors, and the hesitance he'd seen in her as the years moved forward was born out of self-imposed isolation or something deeper.

"Earth to Chakotay. It's your turn."

Chakotay shook the thoughts away and stooped to find a shot. Paris had left him with few options that didn't require more skill than he possessed. He paced the sides of the table, surveying the pathways, unclear as they were.

Each new year seemed to blend into the previous, each loss compounded by a new arrival. But it wasn't until now he realize he couldn't remember any one first night of Prixin as being different from the rest. It seemed that Neelix and Kes had always been there, Seven and the Doctor, Icheb and Naomi, the Equinox crew; all mixed like gossamer threads through time. The only person who stood out in his mind of years past, was Kathryn. Those memories spilled down like a funnel to the present.

Her blush of embarrassment as he held a bundle of mistletoe between them.

Her quavering eyes as he reminded her what it meant to be family.

Her tenacious smile when she handed him Dante's Inferno.

Her innocent admission of hope for an afterlife.

How frail she felt the night he held her.

The break in her voice.

Her icy absence.

Now, nothing.

Then there was the Admiral's history, the one she'd confessed to him tearfully last Prixin. She'd left out many details, he knew that much. But when all was said and done, he'd come to know a future that he'd prefer to avoid. One that see him bitter and jaded, colored by the experiences the older Admiral alluded as being his undoing. But didn't knowing the future already unmake it? Or did it solidify the events coming to pass? A to B to C back to A.

Like most things in life, he could see his relationship with Kathryn had come full circle, returning to the point at which they had started – the tense, unspoken questions and wary glances, a sense of uncertainty now overlaid on some brilliant backdrop of history that seemed dreamlike most days. Grabbing any one memory was like trying to catch a feather in the water, each time he reached to touch the reasons he'd withdrawn in the moment, it moved away from him. It only made him miss her more.

Resolved he'd have to scratch to save himself the embarrassment of missing an already near-impossible shot, he sighed deeply, missing the days when a random alien attack might have interrupted their game.

"My suggestion would be to aim for the nine ball."

Part of him believed it was his imagination, a hallucination born of want and longing instead of reality. The silence that followed the resonant sound of her voice drew down on him until he knew she was waiting – they all were – for him to simply look up.

"Your stick?" Kathryn asked.

He extended it toward her, his voice tight with emotion. "It's called a cue."

Her chin went dead even with the table, back straight and eyes drawn on the shot. The tip of the cue struck true, crushing the nine, the eleven, _and_ the four into pocket, with enough English left to tap the eight ball into the corner. She stood again, victorious.

"That is not even remotely fair," Paris complained.

"Fair is foul, Mr. Paris," she said.

"Shakespeare," he groused. "I hate it when you quote Shakespeare at me."

She pulled him into a hug which B'elanna joined soon after. Harry followed suit, then the Doctor, all hugging and laughing their hellos until there was only one left.

They stepped into each other then drew back, inches apart. God, he had missed her. Every subtle gesture and the way her eyes searched his face for recognition, forgiveness, and understanding all at the same time. Who broke first, he didn't know, but they both laughed, caught in the sheer irony of their first meeting reflected in the moment.

He motioned for her to sit. Tom moved to join them but B'elanna wisely caught his elbow. "Come on, flyboy. Let's see you dance."

Talla grabbed Harry and the Doctor followed, leaving them suspiciously alone.

Kathryn watched them as they moved across the floor. Chakotay held on the moment, recording every millimeter of her profile. Time had done her good, and the light was back in her eyes as well as the color in her cheeks. Natural sunlight had polished the copper highlights in her hair to a glossy bronze, and she'd been content to let it grow again to spill down her back.

He decided there were three questions he had to have answers to before they could move past this point. How she would react to those questions would determine if he ever gazed at her so freely again.

"Can I ask you something?" he began softly.

She nodded once.

"Why did you never tell me about Rejolia Major?"

Surprise followed by anger flickered across her face. "I _knew_ I should have confined her to the brig. How much did she tell you?"

"Only that you spent three days there," he recounted. "But I know that shouldn't have happened. No one survived that place in those days."

"I have no doubt had the Rangers not arrived when they did I would have suffered the same fate," she said quietly. "I never told you because it's not part of my life that I think much about." A glimpse of the pain associated with the memory drew a hard line across her face. "Try not to, anyway."

He wanted to end his line of questioning right then and there, take her in his arms, and sooth away every ounce of what the last admission had cost her, but he held his ground. They had to resolve this if he ever wanted move forward.

"So, can you answer me honestly now? Did you sympathize with the Maquis? Is that why Starfleet chose you?"

"Maybe," she said thoughtfully. "But it's not why I destroyed the array."

"All right, then tell me this, when you found out I was seeing Seven, were you jealous?"

"No," she said too quickly then corrected herself. "_No_. Not jealous, but I did feel something and I was… startled by that. I didn't realize that I still… What I mean is, I had assumed …" She chuckled at herself. "I can't seem to finish that sentence."

"I think I understand."

She smiled weakly and glanced toward her former protégé. "How's Seven doing?"

He shrugged. "At the moment, she seems quiet taken with Mr. Harren."

Kathryn glanced around to where Seven sat then back at him. He could read the confusion in her face, the question she was unwilling, or unable, to ask.

"She broke up with me shortly after we got back to Earth," he said.

She set a warm hand on top of his. "Oh, Chakotay. I'm sorry. I am a horrible friend."

"Why would you say that?"

"I realize that we haven't spent much time together since we got back but I should have at least offered you my –"

"Shoulder to cry on?" He chuckled. "We weren't _that_ serious, Kathryn."

"Well, I could have at least bought you a drink."

"You can make it up to me, then," he said and stood. His palm unfolded toward her. "Dance with me?"

The Doctor moved to the small stage beside the piano, whispering a key before giving tempo. As he began to sing, Chakotay settled a hand against Kathryn's hip, guiding her to him, easy but firm as he led her to the center of the floor.

"_It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old_…"

He thought to look around, but realized he could see nothing but her, haloed in the warm lights of Sandrine's. Kathryn held his gaze for a long moment.

"So, any other prospects on the horizon," she asked.

"One. Possibly. It depends a lot on her."

"How's that?"

"She's difficult to love. Overcritical of herself. Painfully stubborn."

She bowed her head. "Sounds like a challenge."

"I think I've done pretty well for the last seven years," he said softly.

"That you have." She looked up at him. "I can't promise you it will get any easier."

"I'm not asking for anything out of character for you, Kathryn. Just let me love you the way I want to."

Kathryn lifted her eyes to speak but her attention continued into the air above them.

"Well, would you look at that," she said.

He followed her gaze and found a hover-tray had been piloted out to the center of the dance floor and hung just above the reach of his hand.

"Mistletoe," he said.

Across the room, Tom and Harry watched the hovering bundle to its apex, the controls manned by two mischievous grins. Chakotay shot them both a venomous look when he felt Kathryn beginning step back from his arms.

"You know, Chakotay," she began, "it would seem our crew knew something long before we did."

Anticipation fluttered through his chest. "And are you going to let me kiss you this time?" he whispered.

"_Let_ you?"

His lips brushed hers, soft and gentle, drawn out in the melody of the song when he felt the first wave of delirium run through him. Their gentle sway stopped and he lifted his hands as much to cradle her face as pull her deeper into his mouth. When the room erupted in a chorus of cheers, he barely heard them, content to kiss her as long and as often as the universe would allow.

* * *

**Merry Christmas, to every reader that has been with my this year and my reviewers, to whom I endeavor to only ever give my best. May the stories we tell each other inspire us to tell others.**

**- CHV**


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